#let me know if this works for you

[omegalegacy]

Is there anything I can do to help?

"I appreciate the offer - thank you, though I am perfectly fine. I can handle a challenging amount of work", the asari protested, tone leveled and polite, her surprise remaining hidden.

What a strange day this was, to have this fully-armored woman with an N7 symbol on her chest plate walk into this place amidst all this chaos and claim her name was Shepard. There have been a few rumors here and there that Shepard wasn't been truly dead, though if Liselle had learned anything in her centuries of living is that rumors were often the result of ridiculous misinterpretations being passed on and on.

There were definitely even stranger things going on, though, Liselle remembered. Things that the majority of people here, even the elite who worked closely to Aria brushed off as nothing more but stupid rumors. They could not be more wrong. That's why it was worth not writing this woman off immediately.

"So, Shepard, what would be your first name?", Liselle asked, deciding not to send Shepard away yet, the hint of a smile gracing her indigo features despite the fact that she was busy and had to get going soon. She had a feeling that whoever this person was, the answer would be Calliope. The last name and the N7 symbol.. there were few soldiers who made it to N7 and only one was called Shepard.

She might have been some kind of impostor, but it was worth keeping an eye on her regardless. She exuded a respectable presence, a natural confidence that was rarely found on Omega. Even though they had barely exchanged words, Liselle could tell that this woman was not your average low-level mercenary.

[ash-muses]

(OOC) Thanks for sending this in! Destiel is one of my favorite ships, so this was nice to wake up to find. ^-^ Just a few reminders! You're not obligated to match my length or anything like that, so please don't feel pressured to do so. I also don't mind waiting on replies (I can be slow myself, so take your time). If my fonts/colors bother you at all, please let me know; I'd rather you be comfortable. Lastly, have fun with it and let me know if you need me to change anything! :D . ♡ Original source for countdown timer (GIF clipped + slightly recolored by me; non-watermarked version since I didn't do much to change it or anything) ♡ Send 🥂💋to share a toast and a kiss with my muse on New Year’s Eve ♡ Starter for @thegracefallen

Another week of caroling, tinsel, Mistletoe, and terrible Hallmark re-runs had gone by. A certain static hung in the atmosphere, a mix of anticipation and excitement that permeated the motel they were staying in; holidays always made people a little crazy, and this was no different in Dean Winchester's book. New Years Eve was coming up quick. They had managed to survive another year, much to his surprise. Although, maybe that was because he had angels watching over him — one in particular.

He was already feeling buzzed when he felt that all too familiar presence suddenly enveloping the room. Dean knew he had shown up before he even lifted his head. It was about time, if he were being honest, as it was cutting it close to the countdown. The low and gruff voice he had gotten used to, the same greeting every time, sounded moments after — "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas," came his gravelly response, "Took you long enough." But that charming smile found its way to his lips, a hint of amusement in his viridian gaze. "You know, for being a kickass, divine being, you'd think you could tell time." There was a brief silence before the hunter shook his head, moving to grab a bottle from the mini-fridge and pouring them each a glass.

Champagne. It was different than the typical drinks Dean went with. This was fancier, more expensive... a little more intimate. Hell, he had even lined the glasses with a bit of sugar and added a couple of cherries, just for good measure. Looking at it now, he felt slightly sheepish, wondering if maybe it was a bit too much...

"I, uh, thought we could do something a little different," he muttered the explanation, as though it clarified anything, and gestured faintly to the set up. Then, Dean picked up one of the flutes, his silver ring tapping delicately against the glass as he clinked it against Castiel's. "Anyway, Happy New Year, Cas. Thanks, for everything... you stuck around and you didn't have to." After a second, he added sincerely, "I can't tell you what that means to us — to me."

Just then, the New Years countdown sounded faintly on the motel TV. Ten, nine, eight...

He scanned over the angel's angular features, taking in the bit of stubble, the curve of his lips, and the small dimple in his chin. Then, Dean held his vivid cerulean gaze; he was certain those eyes could see right through him, down to the darkest parts of his soul that couldn't bear to see the light of day. It had taken Dean a while to come to terms with his interest in Castiel, although he had never expressed it openly. But tonight was different.

Seven, six, five...

It felt as though his mouth had suddenly gone dry, pulse pounding in his ears to the beat of the numbers. The hunter took a few long pulls from the flute, working up the nerve to make his move as time ticked closer to midnight. It was rich and velvety, noticeably sweet, and carrying a pronounced flavor of ripened peach with a hint of cherry. Dean set aside the now empty glass, clearing his throat softly before he took a couple of steps forward, the distance between himself and Castiel gradually shrinking.

Reaching one hand out, he cupped Cas' cheek, the gesture almost hesitant; there was an unspoken question in his eyes, subtly searching the angel's expression as if he were seeking permission. When he didn't seem to pull away, Dean took the opportunity to gradually lean in closer, pausing when their faces were mere inches apart. Just as the countdown came to an end, fireworks shot into the sky down the street from the motel with a whistle and crackled above. For a few seconds, Cas' sharp features were alight from the colorful display. His eyes fluttered shut and he closed the remaining gap, soft and warm lips meeting the angel's in a tentative kiss.

[badxsshottiexllie]

@skullboysfinale For Peahen!

It had been a year since Ellie visited Canopy Kingdom. Why, the last time she was here, she went to that really nice nightclub, Sacmis Temple. It was there that she met that really hot singer guy Antony. However, she wasn't here to see him this time around.

There were rumors about some weird kid, and quite frankly, she wanted to investigate said rumors. Especially if it was meant to prevent some kind of trouble. At the moment, she was dawning her mecha suit for her heroine persona The Rose Shield. She would fly around the city, hoping to find what she was looking for.

[hoboblaidd]

please don't let them know that i'm here . // for DA verse Connor if you’re feeling it (:

ask meme - fantasy prompts

The sun had set so low on the horizon that the only light was a deep red just above the black silhouettes of the trees. Sleep evaded him, and he wandered along the edge of the Arbor Wilds in the last of the light. He’d been warned of these woods by those who had ventured into them. The Veil was thin here, so thin, as if you could simply step through it into the Fade. Those who had warned him spoke of ghosts in hushed voices, spirits neither living nor dead that possessed the birds, the trees, and the very ground. They grabbed unsuspecting wanderers, he’d been told, or lured lost travelers into the unforgiving canopy of endless forest. They also spoke of a witch, one who lived eternal in the deepest bowels of the wood. That is who he sought.

But it was not Flemeth he found at the forest’s edge. It was something altogether different. What he had at first dismissed as a lingering vestige of a forgotten struggle moved. 

Solas raised an eyebrow, not startled so much as intrigued. He turned back, moving slowly, and inclined his head at the creature. “Greetings,” he said carefully. He was not driven by fear, but caution. He had dealt with demons and spirits alike in his many years, and more that fell somewhere in between. 

“You are in no danger from me,” he said, and though his voice was even, it was stern. It would be no easy thing for any demon to possess him, if that’s what they were, but best not be too careful. “And I shan’t tell a soul, provided you intend my party no harm.” He kept his arms at his side, ready in case defense was needed, but he did not feel malice from this creature. “What magic is keeping you here?”

[cantfightmoonlight]

@faerietothe-otherside

"Fuck," He muttered under his breath as he caught the sight of his cousin headed down the hall. The last thing he wanted to do was having to make small talk with the slimy bastard who stole his job, so before they could lock eyes, he ducked around the corner nearly plowing down a young woman who worked there. "Shit, sorry," He muttered out, trying to steady her only for his gaze to fall down to hers and for him to immediately recognize her face. Shit. "Rangi?"

[goodwinxandco]

send “🎲” (or “dice”) for me to randomize the following settings and write you a starter set within whichever one we get

⊹ . ⊹ @spitsfire // an old church that has chipped wood and broken windows

Traveling everywhere by foot inevitably took much longer to get from place to place, and nights like these-- terribly cold, wet, and rainy, Wyatt wished he still had a horse that could take him to his next refuge. Well, he supposed having two perfectly good feet to walk on was a hell of a lot better than having nothing. There just wasn't much room for complaining. At first, he thought the century-old church that stood a few feet away from him was just a figment of his imagination. But the closer he came, he realized he wasn't dreaming. Right now this was better than nothing, he thought.

Warily, he entered the abandoned church, greeted by the creaking sound of the door opening and his heedful steps upon the wooden floorboards. There was water leaking from the ceiling, but for the most part it was dry. How old was this church any how? Just when he had begun to believe he was still alone, the sudden presence of the other startled him. "Now, you scared the hell out of me-- didn’t think anyone would be here," Wyatt said promptly, holding up his hands to show her he wasn't carrying a weapon in either one of his hands. With the state of the world as it was, most people seemed to be distrustful of one another right off the bat, and with good reason at that.

[walkedlegacy-closed]

walkeddeath:

what's the matter? you got the blues?

she wasn't good at this part. the part where she felt like she had done something wrong , and now her mother was angry with her. there was an owl. always there. no matter what , she saw it every day , no matter what. from the time she was a little girl. now she had gone two days without seeing it. she couldn't help but wonder if she had done something to anger her mother somehow. she couldn't think of what it could have been , but that didn't stop the worry she felt. growing up , her parents told her about how cryptic the gods could be. that sometimes , digging to find the deeper meaning in something could be just as dangerous as not heading their message at all. and here anya was , a daughter of athena trying to walk that tightrope.

gen's voice pulls her from her thoughts , looking out at the waters across the lake , like she was attempting to will that owl into existence. "i'd say that's a valid assessment." she answered , not yet looking to gen , not until she sat down next to her. "i've seen this owl every day for as long as i can remember. and now . . . i haven't seen it in two days." she let out a sigh , before shrugging her shoulders. "can't help but feel like i've done something wrong."

[crimson-sorrow]

Adrian drinking blood for the first time, reply to the lost ask for @drakyura

For a long time Adrian didn’t understand what it meant to be a dhampir. Cursed, or blessed, to be half human and half vampire. At first the boy had not felt different from what he assumed every child must feel like. The urge to play, the urge to spend time with one’s parents, the urge to be mischievous. When the boy grew, definitely quicker than a normal human child would, his interests shifted; he learned how to write and read and practically started to absorb every story book he could get his hands on, his curiosity never to be satiated. There were two people he looked up to: his father and his mother, in his eyes the most remarkable people in existence and often the boy begged his father to please teach him magic, he asked his mother to teach him how to take care of the wounded animals that sometimes found their way into their garden. Adrian was a bright child and he loved everyone around him dearly.

It wasn’t until Adrian hit another growth spurt and turned into a teenager that he understood what it meant to be the son of Dracula. Only half of him was a vampire, but that didn’t prevent the boy from eventually falling victim to his hunger. Golden eyes fixated on the man currently sitting in their kitchen, his mother tending to his wounds, the scent of blood was heavy in the air. It made Adrian feel dizzy, it made his throat scratch and simple water didn’t seem to be able to soothe the ache. Retreating to his room the boy wondered if another person’s heartbeat had always been so loud? Standing at the window of his room he watched the man leave their estate and even though he knew their parents would be awfully mad at him Adrian sneaked out of the house to follow the man.

Adrian was silent as he followed the poor man, melting into the shadows whenever the man turned around and seeing the confusion on the other’s face slowly turn into fear excited him. Yes, let him be scared, it only made that heart beat so much faster and so much louder. The boy wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, what he was hoping to accomplish, he only knew that scent of blood made his mouth water and once they had reached the city, Adrian couldn’t hold back anymore. His body might have been smaller than the man’s, but still he managed to wrestle his unexpecting victim to the ground before sinking his teeth deep into his throat.

The first kill was messy. Blood was everywhere, Adrian bit into the man’s throat, his shoulder, not caring to muffle the screams, no, they only excited him more. The young dhampir’s claws ripped open the man’s shirt, scratching open his chest, sharp nails sinking into the flesh to tear it open. The boy sat in a puddle of blood, holding the now dead man’s wrist to his mouth, trying to savor the last drops of blood when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Adrian’s response was an angry hiss, clutching his prey’s body close to him as if he were afraid this newcomer would take it from him and he was ready to defend his meal when he realized who it was that had found him here, committing his first crime. Barely able to register the words that praised him Adrian bared his fangs in an attempt to bite Dracula’s hand that lay heavy on his shoulder and only then did he slowly calm down from his frenzy.

“Father?”, Adrian asked, blood dripping from his lips and chin, making him look like the monster many people believed him to be. Slowly he let go of the dead body, rising to his feet only to stumble into his father’s arms, head resting against the other’s silent chest.

“Father, I’m hungry.. I’m unbearably hungry..”

[timeguardians]

❝ let me help you. ❞ ( Nancy Drew please or any muse you feel fits this :3 )

Drew's lips fashion a cordial grin at the other young woman's offering. Sky-blue eyes meet the others from around a cumbersome stack of boxes. Each of the boxes were filled with stacks of old newspaper articles, pictures, and a few belongings. Things Nancy hoped would give her a clue into the girl's abrupt disappearance.

"That would be so fantastic! Thank you." And truth was, the teen sleuth hadn't quite figured out how she'd get the door open. Especially, since Frank and Joe Hardy weren't present to get it for her.

"You're a reporter, right?" Nancy questions. "I -- I think I've seen you before." No. Her keen mind seems to INSIST she had seen her before. "Are you the one they set on the McMaster's case? If so, I think I have a few questions for you--"

[muffinlance]

Consider: Post-canon Zuko wakes up in the body of his childhood self, the morning of That War Meeting. Would he still speak against the plans, knowing his fate? What do you think he would do differently the second time around?

"Turned away at the doors, Zuzu?"

"Shut up, Azula," her brother sulked. But sulked weirdly, after staring at her too long and too wide-eyed, not like she'd surprised him but--

But like he hadn't expected her to be there. At all.

He turned away. ...He turned back. "Hey, Lala? Do you think you could help me practice that one set?"

He didn't meet her eyes.

She narrowed hers. "Which set?"

"The one I'm bad at."

She scoffed. Pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against. "That's all of them, Dum-Dum."

He didn't shout or stomp or yell about the nickname. His lips twitched.

"It's okay," he said. "If you're afraid you won't be a better teacher that my instructor..."

It was the most obvious manipulation ever.

Perhaps if he proved an adequate firebending student, she'd work on his courtly survival skills next. Honestly, it was good that not even Uncle Gets-Cousins-Killed had been fool enough to take Zuko into that war meeting. She could only imagine how terribly that could have gone.

"Keep up," she said, and turned her steps towards the training grounds.

He did. There, and during the katas she ran him through.

Azula kept her eyes narrowed.

"Hey," he asked, "do you know how to bend lightning yet?"

As if he could have missed it, if she'd been able to get more than sparks. "I will soon," she said.

"You will," he agreed, and flowed through his next set. The one she'd only just mastered.

Father didn't notice how weird Zuzu was being. Uncle never noticed anything. Zuko ate dinner and asked a servant for seconds and didn't stutter or flinch or lose his appetite when father asked, coolly, what he'd done with his day. Azula's shoulders tensed, because one mention of how she'd squandered her own training time teaching him--

"Azula hogged the training grounds. For hours," Zuzu scowled, exactly like a petulant thirteen year old.

Exactly like he hadn't been acting all day.

By the time Father was looking her way, Azula had her usual smirk in place. "I'm sure there would be room for both of us," she said, "you're not afraid of a little friendly fire, are you, brother?"

Zuko sulked. And ate his seconds, like he was enjoying each bite. There was something in his eyes, like a joke no one else was getting.

---

Father died that night. A heart attack. There were the faintest of burns to either side of the treacherous organ; the royal physician hypothesized that he'd grabbed at his chest, fingers burning hot in his final moments; so hot they'd only exacerbated the problem.

The royal physician would never have been brought any victims of lighting strikes. Those that occurred in the capital did not generally require a doctor in the aftermath.

Zuzu ate a hearty breakfast.

He didn't order seconds. Azula gave him points, at least, for not being tacky.

---

The sages named Iroh as regent.

They named Zuko as Fire Lord.

"No," the tiny Fire Lord in his perfectly miniaturized Fire Lord robes said, sitting at the head of his war council. "We're not doing that. And I'll be reviewing all recent battle plans, as well. What's this I hear about a division of new recruits being deployed to the front?"

He did not mention how he'd heard of the 41st Division. No one asked.

"Prince Iroh, surely--" one of the generals tried to appeal.

The young Fire Lord's regent was looking as startled as the rest of them, for a moment. Then he sipped his tea, and smiled.

"Your Fire Lord is correct, of course. A change in our leadership--a change the other nations may mistakenly view as weakness--will necessitate a change in our strategy."

"Now," said their lord, "what, exactly, is our overall objective in this war?"

War, the new Fire Lord decreed, was not an end unto itself.

---

The new Fire Lord continued to have time, to pretend to be trained by her. Azula watched him. Adjusted her footwork. Did not tolerate, and was not offered, any commentary on who was teaching who.

"What did you do with my brother?" she asked, as they flowed from one set to the next. As her hands, poised to throw fire, just so happened to be pointed his way.

He missed a step. It didn't look like an act.

"I'm, uh. Right here?"

She didn't bother to dignify that.

He didn't bother to look worried about her hands, one movement off from a true attack.

He looked around, then grabbed her sleeve, and tugged her further from any walls that may hide ears. The royal family's private training grounds were wonderfully large, and wonderfully open.

"It's me," he said. "It's still me. Just. More of me? Longer of me?"

She narrowed her eyes. A familiar expression, by this point. "Explain."

"...I found the Avatar," he said. "And this is definitely his fault, but--but I guess it started at a war meeting, when I was thirteen."

Azula listened. It was a very Dum-Dum story.

[saltyfinalboss]

i can wait 10 years more for silksong if they don't make a second winged nosk

[bean-spring]

Hot take and not to be a killjoy or the shipping police but people treating Viktor or Jinx's aroace headcanons as if they were canon is not the revolutionary take people think it is.

Headcanons are always all right but we have to acknowledge that they are somehow damaging when they apply to stereotypes. It might not be the case for everyone but most of the time people unconsciously assume that disability/mental illness=asexuality. These headcanons erase the freedom of attraction from people who are already seen as unable to have sexual/romantic experiences/desires, when it's completely untrue and harmful.

You can headcanon Viktor and Jinx as aroace, but I have seen people changing their minds once Viktor is no longer disabled (s2 with all of his other forms) and Jinx is no longer as mentally ill (alternate universe Powder). And it speaks wonders of how people see these characters.

"I never thought about Jinx being able to feel romantic/sexual attraction until s2!" To believe she's actually only capable of that when she's not "damaged" is incredibly disturbing. Especially since Jinx has always had a bit of a flirty personality too.

"I've always seen Viktor as asexual, I don't know why!" That's fine. You can headcanon him as ace. But I believe there is a reason behind it, most of the time, if for some inexplicable reason the "vibes" of the disabled character are making you think he's ace.

I say all of this being aroaspec myself, by the way. Headcanon all you want but going to people's posts commenting how "it's weird for you that they have romantic/sexual plots when they're clearly aroace" is not a win at all. It's a headcanon, after all, and it should be treated as such, and that's fine. But it also is damaging to spread stereotypes like these.

Of course the disabled character is asexual. Of course the mentally ill character is aromantic. It's not as revolutionary as you might think, tbh.

Fandom is not activism and it's all right to have any headcanons you want BUT some of them are filled with damaging stuff and perhaps we should look into ourselves more before treating these assumptions as something canon.

[saragrosie]

Sketching while streaming s5...

Jonathan Sims I will learn to draw you (this is my doing. I could draw him however I want and I choose to stick with an image of him in my brain that is difficult for me to draw. Masochism.)

Not s5 Mahtins below I enjoyed drawing cuz hes neat:

(Edit: I yassified Martin in the do not separate cuz I wanted his hair fluffier)

[doccywhomst]

tumblr glitch that hath rended my dash asunder:

free shitpost generator??? why isn’t this an official browsing mode. anyway here are my fav screen grabs, all hits no misses:

pure poetry. it’s like trying to tune into a specific radio station but you have giant lobster claws instead of hands

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Being someone who read Under The Red Hood and came out with the firm belief that, for Jason, it's not about killing Joker, it's about Jason wanting proof Batman would choose him over the Joker (bc shelia chose the joker). Makes seeing any other media where it's all about just wanting the Joker dead is a teeny bit frustrating. to be honest

Jason could've killed the Joker himself, really, really easily. Jason kidnaps the Joker before the confrontation. I can't open my comic for a reference right now, but it felt like he had the Joker for quite a bit before the confrontation. He had him. He beat him up with a crowbar. He had every single opportunity to kill the Joker himself, but he didn't because that wasn't his goal. Make no mistake, he did plan for the Joker to be dead by the end of it, but do you see what im trying to say here

Edit: If I knew this post was gonna get 1000+ notes I would've tried to word it better or something, this was a rant I made on the way to the grocery store 😭

It's not about making Batman kill either. When Batman says he won't kill, Jason adjusts and goes, 'Let ME kill the Joker or kill me to stop me' instead. The test is all about Batman choosing him. The whole final confrontation is Jason's first death again. The parent, The Joker, and the explosives. It even ends with Jason unable to move as a bomb goes off right next to him again because the parent didn't choose Jason. And instead tried finding an option that'd benefit them and (consequencely) letting the Joker walk, again, lol, lmao <-in agony

[en-stbc]

how ive been feeling the past couple of days. i have no shame